The Forgotten One

We are what we are because we have been what we have been.

Art museums are a lot more fun when you can admit your honest opinion of the works. I hated visiting them as a kid, ‘cause adults always expected me to be very serious about every exhibit and have complicated, nuanced opinions about What Art Is. 

“I want to speak to a manager,” the middle-aged woman said in her stern I-used-to-be-a-soccer-mom-ten-years-ago voice, looking down at me over the top of her Gucci reading glasses.

Being in love is more than scary - It’s terrifying. You put your whole being into another; you give them your heart and your soul, only to be left wondering if they’ll do the same or rip you in their hands and toss you away.

say what you want about woobifying villains, but i think tragic backstories and redemption via love are staples for good reason. we want to believe that people are fundamentally good, just hardened by a harsh world. that suffering earns you a happy ending. because then it means something, then pain isn’t just senseless and futile.

trying to avoid old classmates in public like leonadro dicaprio avoiding the paps 

What once was an inseparable pair is now struggling to make small talks.

This is what I like about photographs. They’re proof that once, even if just for a heartbeat, everything was perfect.

— I’m in pain all the time. — Where? — Inside. I can’t explain it.

I’m not sure which is worse: intense feeling, or the absence of it.